


Smoking Kink - Agent Washington

by Felon_00



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bruises, Choking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kissing, Minor Injuries, Missionary Position, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Smut, Sparring, Swearing, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felon_00/pseuds/Felon_00
Summary: Warnings: smoking kink / breath play (choking) / wall sex / semi-public sexAfter a long training session with Wash and the Blues, you stop behind their base to catch Wash on a cigarette break. It leads to more than just smoking...
Relationships: Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Smoking Kink - Agent Washington

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: smoking kink / breath play (choking) / wall sex / semi-public sex

With a heavy sigh you practically throw yourself against one of the blockades on top of Red Base and slide down into a sitting position in the shade.

"That was a bit dramatic..."

You hear Simmons mutter, glancing at you over his shoulder. Sarge decided it would be a good idea to put you and Simmons on guard duty for the entire afternoon, he said something about 'helping team moral' if you take some time to bond with Simmons, and of course the maroon solider had jumped at the opportunity to impress the higher rank with his bonding skills. You doubt Sarge even knew the definition of moral...

"You know he probably sent us up here because we get on his nerves right? I mean guard duty in this place is borderline pointless."

"I think it's the most important..."

Your helmet makes a light 'thunk' as you rest your head back, closing your eyes.

"Well I think we should get Grif to finish painting my armour, it's just as white as it is red..."

You look down at your mismatched armour. Originally your suit was white and grey but since joining the Red Team, they had tried to surprise you with a new red get-up. They had left the paint job up to Grif but judging by how much of the armour was still unpainted, he had slacked off half way through. From afar it probably looked like you were just mowed down in a warthog accident.

"What do you think?"

You look over at Simmons who seems to be invested in the scope of his rifle. His voice is quiet and steady when he speaks, sounding as if he was trying to talk to himself without realising his lips are moving.

"I think the Blue Team is up to something..."

You perk up at his words. Hardly anything happens in the canyon so this could be something exciting to get in on. The last time you could recall anything out of the ordinary was when Tucker got himself stuck in the tank trying to show off and you had to bail his ass out. Truthfully they had left him there for at least a couple of hours before doing something about it, but after feeling a bit sorry for him you finally got Lopez to cut the hatch open.

"What do you mean by 'up to something'? And here I thought you were the analytical type..."

"I can't really see, my scope doesn't zoom far enough..."

He hums and turns to you, gesturing to your sniper rifle with his hand.

"Think I can use that to take a look?"

You raise any eyebrow at him. You haven't seen Simmons use a long distance rifle before, nevermind your own gun. It had more buttons and dials than the standard rifles, you had Lopez do some 'modifying' in his free time.

"Do you know how to use the scope on this?"

"Uh... no, but you could... teach me?"

He shifts uncomfortably under your stare, obviously worried about what you would say next. Although he would never admit to it you knew he always cared what others thought of him.  
You get to your feet and step over to his side, a patient smile on your face. You pat him firmly on the shoulder making him flinch a little from the strength of your hand. He had to admit you were the smallest in the Red Team but more than likely the strongest.

"How about I take a look and then I'll teach you after our shift is over? Then we have the rest of the day to ourselves."

You see his shoulders relax at this, you didn't explicitly tell him no like he was expecting you to. He nods his head with new found confidence at the promise of training with you later.

"That sounds like a good idea thank you Agent California."

You laugh at him using your alias. It wasn't a secret that you came from the same program as the Blue Team's most recent leader, Agent Washington. You weren't a well known freelancer certainly nowhere near the top, most of your missions were relatively peaceful recon and much smaller heists than the top agents.

"Just call me Cal, Simmons."

He just nods his head and you can swear you see him blushing through his visor before you turn to face the Blue Base. You raise your rifle to your eye in one fluent motion. You zoom in to get a better look at the Blue Team, spying Washington standing over Tucker doing push ups. Judging by the way he was standing with his arms folded he didn't look impressed. What was impressive though was the slight glimpse of Wash's chiseled ass through his fatigues.

"What do you think they're doing?"

You hear Simmons ask out of curiosity. You bury your teeth in your lip and mutter a reply to Simmons, deciding to leave out the detail of Wash's impeccable physique.

"Hate to disappoint you but I think they're just doing training drills, Sims."

"Training drills... maybe we should start doing those. It would involve the whole team so it would be time effective for raising moral!"

You turn to Simmons with a smirk, his attitude quickly turning from temporary glee to suspicion.

"I know that face.... what are you up to?"

"Well if Sarge wants us to bond I have a better idea on how to do that."

You approach Simmons and hold your rifle out to him, leaving him fumbling for words. One of his gloved hands comes up to take a hold of your rifle, almost dropping it once you let go of it obviously not expecting it to be so heavy.

"Um... what is this for?"

"I'm going to go check out what the Blues, and you're going to watch my back."

You turn to hop off the edge of base, Simmons following quickly behind you.

"But you can't just go over there! What if they shoot you or take you hostage? I don't even know how to use this thing!"

He stutters out voice higher than he intended. You turn to him and grab his forearm firmly in reassurance. You point at the scope of your rifle.

"The big dial sets the zoom, don't touch anything else. You should learn how to hold it first."

You flick the visor of his helmet, making him flinch sharply. You hop down off of the ledge and head into Red Base, quickly finding your room and stripping your armour off in favour of some causal military fatigues. You pass Grif on the way out who looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"And where are you going?"

"I'm ditching watch duty with Simmons to go piss off the Blues."

He nods in approval and continues on his way without any further questions. You head on over to the Blue Base, giving a thumbs up hoping to give Simmons some reassurance if he is watching.

" -- fucksake Tucker, I said twenty push ups not six you've still got fourteen to go. Pick yourself up."

You feel yourself smile at the familiarity of Wash's voice as you approach, spotting Tucker on the ground in a heap with Caboose sitting next to him looking exhausted himself. Carolina and Church weren't in base at the moment, likely chasing some loose ends for the next few days. You stand next to Wash with your hands on your hips, looking over the Blue Team.

"So... this is what you guys are doing huh?"

"Oh, hello Cali! I'm glad you're here."

Caboose waves up at you from his seated position, ecstatic to see you make an appearance. Wash looks at you with the raise of a scarred eyebrow. You can see him looking you up and down out of the corner of your eye but decide not to call him out on his leering, he wasn't expecting to see you out of armour any time today.

"And what brings you over here Cali, aren't you meant to be on watch for your team?"

Tucker looks up at you and flashes you a devilish grin, recovered enough to get his sultry personality back. Not even Wash could beat the pick up lines out of him if he wanted to.

"Probably over here to check out my good looks and sweet ass, isn't that right beautiful?"

"Maybe I wanted to check out what the Red Team is up against, and by the looks of it there's not much..."

You can't help the sly comment slipping from your mouth, especially when you're looming over Tucker laying in the dirt looking so defeated.

"As if _you_ could do better... no offence sweet cheeks but Red Team sucks major dick, no exceptions."

You flash Tucker your middle finger, he only returns it right back at you as he pushes himself up with a grunt. _Charming_. You look down at Caboose who looks deep in thought, tapping a finger against his chin.

"I have an idea! Why don't you and Washington have a competition?"

Caboose leaps to his feet in excitement, seemingly much more recovered than Tucker who is doubled over still orienting himself. You hum softly at the thought, Caboose clasping his hands together in anticipation.

"I don't think that's necessary..."

Wash says, sounding reluctant. Tucker steps to his side and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Wash visibly frowns at the contact. 

"You have to now dude, Cali is representing the Reds and you gotta represent us."

"Is the number six afraid of losing to me?"

You cross your arms and tilt your hip to the side as he turns and steps close to you. You have to crane your neck up to look into his eyes from his imposing stature. His fists clench at his side and he looks like he's contemplating your words, face closer than what some others would consider 'comfortable'. Caboose is fumbling his hands, unsure of what Washington was planning. He didn't think Wash would hit a girl. Underneath the uncaring, tough guy act he could see Wash was a nice man. Misunderstood certainly, but not as mean as he pretends to be.

"Alright then."

He concludes after a long pause, leaning back to give you space to breathe. Since when were you holding your breath?

"I won't go easy on you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

You ignore the 'bow chika wow wow' Tucker coughs behind you. Caboose had suggests three tasks for you and Wash to compete in; sharp shooting, a race, and then a sparring match. Whoever was the best at the most tasks would be the winner.

First up was sharp shooting. Tucker and Caboose had scattered some boxes they had found in base and propped them up covering a few different ranges. Wash passes his rifle to you, chuckling a quiet 'ladies first'. You brush off his courtesy for the time being; you had a competition to win. You adjust the drop on the rifle and hold it tight against your shoulder focusing on your first target waiting for the signal to start. Caboose times how long it takes you to hit all targets.

"Nine seconds that was really good Cal!"

"I'm surprised you can count to nine."

You bump Wash on the shoulder and mutter a quick 'be nice' before pushing the rifle into his hands. He makes a few adjustments and turns to the targets, waiting for his mark. When Tucker shouts 'go', you're not sure where to look between the face of concentration Wash pulls or the rapidly falling targets.

"Huh that's six seconds..."

Tucker grins, wiggling his eyebrows at you. How you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face... Wash turns to you resting the rifle against his shoulder, his other hand resting in the belt loop of his trousers. The smile he flashes you is equally as handsome as it is taunting.

"Looks like I won this one."

You try to hide your shock, ushering him to hurry up and start the second challenge with you before he can get in any more cocky.

Next up was the race, you and Wash had to run three laps around base. The first person to cross the start line would win. You take your postion at the line with Wash, watching him crouch down readying for the Blue Team's signal to start. You take a second to admire the way his arm muscles tensed to support his weight, letting out a puff of air from your nose. When you hear the signal you're already gone, leaving Wash in your dust. You didn't do much hard core training like he did in Project Freelancer but if there was one thing you were good at, it was running track.

Tucker and Caboose were waiting for you. As you leap through the finish line you gave Tucker a slap on the shoulder as you pass. You spin around to face Caboose and Tucker, throwing your arms out to shoot a double middle-finger 'fuck you' to the cyan soldier. He was use to it at this point but the thought of Blue Team losing to the Reds was enough to get him fired up for the final round.

"I just dusted your leader, bet you feel reeeal stupid now hm?"

Tucker crosses his arms and gives you an unimpressed look as Wash crosses the line a few seconds after you. He ignores Tucker's complaints about losing to a woman in favour of patting your shoulder.

"You're faster than I thought you'd be."

"I may have been a low rank Wash but I picked up a few things in my time."

"Well you better show me."

He chuckles as he starts making his way to the crude circle Caboose and Tucker carved into the ground. You follow behind him, glancing over at Red Base, hoping Simmons doesn't find the safety on your rifle and accidentally shoot you or Wash during the spar.

"First one to give up loses!"

Caboose states quite matter of factly, standing on your 'corner' while Tucker watches from Wash's back. You step forward with your fists ready and Wash follows.

"Start!"

"Yeah Wash kick the Red Team's ass!"

You see the scowl on Washington's face as he approaches you, waiting for you to throw the first hit. You don't disappoint him and step towards him swiftly, throwing a few short jabs to see what he will do. He avoids the first few hits before catching your forearm and giving you a jab of his own. You duck under his arm and slam an elbow into his ribs. Instead of flinching like you expect him to, he grabs your collar and you feel his knee meet your stomach. You almost fall over your own feet as he lets go. So he wanted to play rough...

You and Wash go at it again. Every time he reaches to manoeuvre you into some kind of lock or throw you drive him away with a warning kick. Your arms ached from him really laying into him, you ignored the jeering from Tucker and the worried voice of Caboose as you lunge at Wash. You land a heavy hit on his forearm leaving yourself wide open. As soon as you feel his calloused hand grab your elbow you know it's already too late. He turns and with his strong arm wrapped around your waist, he lifts you like you weighed nothing over his hip. The short second you spend airborne almost appears to go in slow motion. Huh... the sky looked beautiful today, not a single cloud in sight.

The world tumbles around you when you hit the ground, the impact knocks the air out of your lungs. You wheeze as you pull your arm from Wash's grip and stumble to your feet. He doesn't follow and allows you to catch your breath. You groan a quiet ' _fuck_ ' and rub your shoulder, Wash gives you an expression you could describe as apologetic. You can't help the anger that falls over you and you don't even realise you're already in front of Wash, throwing a quick fist to his face feeling your knuckles connect with his defined jaw. He pulls back and you follow with a heavy punch under his ribs. He blocks the third haymaker with his forearm but misjudges the speed, your fist connecting with the bone of his wrist. Searing pain shot up his forearm but before he can let out a sound you step towards him and plant your foot on the ground, giving a sharp twist of your body. Your boot slams into his stomach sending him stumbling backwards into Tucker who catches Wash from under the arms. That last hit left him stunned, there would definitely be a bruise following.

"Hey man watch it, you're suppose to be winning not getting your ass kicked!"

Wash pulls away from Tucker without so much as a word, and the pissed off look he gives you is _heated_. You resisted the urge to squeeze your thighs together trying to look anywhere but his face. You can't remember a time you ever pissed him off like this, it made you feel hotter than you liked to admit.

Although he said he wouldn't go easy on you before, it was more for show, but now he knows you're not as fragile as you look. He could've expected that much... He never saw you in the project but you were a Freelancer none the less. When the first punch he throws makes contact with your arm you take a step back, pain erupting against your skin. Fuck that _really_ hurt... You hardly have enough time to register as he draws his arm back for another. When you first started you thought you would win this, you don't know what aroused you more; the fact that he was so much stronger than you we're, or the thought that he actually took you more serious than any other of the men in this canyon.

You grab his wrist but he wretches it from your grip, pulling you off balance in the process. He fists his large hand in the front of your shirt and you feel your feet leave the canyon floor before your back rushes to meet the hard ground. You let out a stunned cry as the force winds you. He takes you to the dirt, settling between your thighs.

"Yield."

He practically _growls_ out through his clenched jaw. You lock eyes with him, catching sight of the feral display of his barred teeth. You search for words but when you open your mouth, no sound comes out... You pause and try again, sounding the words you wanted to say out in your head but again, silence. His eyes fall to your lips as he pushes his palm harder between your breasts, pushing you further down. Your chest hardly rises to breathe as he leans more weight onto you, the burn in your lungs was making your head feel fuzzy. You could shiver at the sight of him between your legs like this, feeling like a brick wall against you. You shoot him a sneer in a final act of defiance.

" _Never_."

You pant out between shallow breaths, his eyebrows raising a little. He obviously wasn't expecting you to say that. He feels your hand grip around his wrist, your fingers tight. You grab behind his neck with your other hand and bring his face down to meet your forehead. White explodes in Wash's vision, a sharp pain in his face stunning him. He could feel the warm rush of blood drip from his nose as he recoils just far enough for you manoeuvre a foot to his chest and with all your strength, you shove him off. He hits the dirt with a groan as Tucker takes a step forward, his hand raised.

"Hey I know you guys like it rough but this is getting a bit too intense..."

You roll onto your hands and knees, your arms trembling as you try to push yourself up, _breath_ you think to yourself trying to steady your weak muscles. Washington is on you before you can even think, his weight pushing you down as your neck nestles in the crook of his elbow. He pulls the back of your head to press against his firm chest and his hips press tight to your ass. Your back groans in protest at the angle he twists you into. You couldn't tell if you could hear his heart beat or your own hammering against your chest with your ears so close to his pecs.

You struggle against his grip, your fingers gripping at his thick forearm. It feels like someone is pushing a steel pipe into your throat and you gag when his grip tightens. A soft whimper escapes your mouth, and Wash doesn't miss it. He bites his tongue and you feel his breath against your ear, voice thick.

"Do you yield? Or do I have to put you to sleep... "

You let out a quiet noise, something in between a gag and a moan. Your heart beat was thrumming in your ears, the slowed flow of blood to your head making you starting to feel faint when he tightens his grip further.

"Fuck..."

The way that word spills from your lips is criminal. Wash breathes a heavy sigh through his nose, hoping you don't notice the way he shifts behind you trying to relieve the growing hardness in his fatigues. Were you getting off on him beating you into the ground?

"Wash can you let go of Cal please? I don't think we should be fighting any more you're both really good..."

Caboose is gentle but cautious with his words, may be he was worried Washington would lash out at him in his anger. You feel the arm slowly loosen from around your neck, and then he releases you so slowly he probably thought you were made of glass.

You take in a generous gasp of air as Wash releases your throat, feeling him press his forehead against your shoulder for a moment. His breath was laboured against your shirt. You groaned underneath him feeling a throb of desire in your slick cunt at the thought of how he made your body burn with exhaustion. You prayed he wouldn't notice the blush on your face as you bury your head in your forearms...

With his breath now steadied he pushes himself up, stepping in front of you to offer you a hand. Even after getting his face bloodied he was still a good sport, you admired that. You pick yourself up reluctantly out of the dirt and take hold of his wrist. A soft grunt leaves him as he pulls you to your feet, your hands lingering together a little too long as you look up into his eyes. He looked hot like this... sweating and disheveled. His eyes trailed over you; soaking you in. You brush yourself down to pat the dust off of your clothes with your aching arms while Wash fixes his shirt back into the waistband of his trousers. Bruises were already starting to form where you blocked his punches, you could feel them with every flex of your fingers. Caboose seemed to relax once everyone had settled down.

"Red Team still sucks."

Tucker hums as he turns to walk with Caboose back into base, intent on scrubbing the dirt and sweat off of his skin from Washington's gruelling workout prior to your little competition. A heavy sigh leaves you as you watch the two Blues head into base. Maybe Washington was still around... You wanted to atleast apologise for busting his nose in the heat of the moment, so you head off to search for him.

\- - -

Wash is leaning against the base in the shade, a hand in his pocket and a cigarette between his fingers. His shoulders were relaxed and his eyes were closed as he lifted his fingers to his lips and took a long draw of the cigarette, letting the wisps of smoke flow out from his nose. A brownish mark can be seen at the bottom of his shirt, he must have used it to carelessly wipe his nose because you can still see the tell tale sign of red blood smeared on his upper lip. You watched him with a strange fascination, a familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't put your finger on it but you always had a thing for hot guys smoking, you even found yourself watching Grif whenever he had a cigarette break but he never called you out on your weird staring.

"Huh... didn't know you were a smoker Wash, you could've fooled me with a face like that."

You remark as you approach him, feeling your shoulder bump against his arm as you stand by his side. He grunts softly and looks down at you, a brief look of surprise on his face. You hardly notice the pink ghosting his cheeks at your touch.

"Well it helps with the stress. I'm sure you have some bad habits after joining the Red Team."

You laugh softly, reaching your hand up to run your fingers along your throat still tender from almost being choked out cold by Wash moments ago.

"Well the boredom has certainly made me a masochist, you punch like a fucking tank even without your armour..."

He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes so he can look at you better.

"Not so bad yourself, almost had me a few times."

"And that body of yours..."

You give him a sinful once over with your eyes. He shifts under your predatory gaze, a seductive look in your eyes.

"You can choke me any time you like."

He almost swallows his cigarette at your words, fixing you with a dumbfounded look. He wasn't sure if you were teasing him for sport or if you were interested in something more than just training.

"I can't believe that's actually something you said out loud..."

"I'll be honest Wash I'm not the best at flirting, I'm just hoping you can take a hint..."

You lean your hand against the wall while your other reaches to press against his chest. He looks down at you surprised by your touch, his heart beating faster in his chest he wouldn't be surprised if you could feel it. Wash opened his mouth to say something but the only sound that came out was a sharp ' _shit'_ gritted out from clenching his jaw. _Fuck_ you could see the red staining a few of his top teeth. He watches as your hand slides down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard muscle underneath from years of conflict.

"Fuck, Wash... I don't know what's hotter, you with or without armour."

You weren't sure what words were coming out of your mouth, focusing on pulling his shirt from his pants. When your fingers meet the hard flesh of his stomach the hum of approval you let out is criminal. Wash reaches down and grabs your wrist tight leading you lower to the front of his trousers. Without needing anymore prompting you grope his cock through his clothes, finding him rock hard under your touch. Seeing- no, _feeling_ him just as aroused as you were did wonders to your boldness. He groans softly around the cigarette between his teeth when you squeeze him through the fabric, running the tip of your thumb around where you knew the head of his dick would be.

In a fluent motion you are forced against the wall. Before you can react he is towering over you, strong arms caging you in on either side of your head. A muscled thigh presses in between your legs from this position, sending a jolt of pleasure to your centre. You feel the burn of smoke in your lungs as you inhale when he leans in, the tip of his cigarette almost brushing your nose.

"When we were sparring, that look you were giving me..."

His voice is deep and husky, the words going straight to your core. He takes a long draw before slipping the cigarette between his fingers again, leaning forward so the smoke brushes against your face as he speaks.

"Like you wanted me to fuck you there in front of my team."

You can't hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, watching his lips as they move inches from your own. When he's this close to you, you can smell his cologne. How could you miss that when you were wrestling him earlier? It smells something like wood and soap mixed with the smell of his cigarette smoke. Masculine, it just smells so like _him_ it's addictive...

"And would you have if I let you?"

Your voice was breathy as you reach up to brush your fingers against his neck, feeling him tense under your teasing touch. When you sink your teeth into your lip, you feel Wash let out a soft puff of air from his nose against your face.

"I should've fucked you when I had you in that choke hold... That's probably what you wanted wasn't it? Fucking _moaned_ at the threat of me putting you to sleep."

His knee presses harder against the junction between your thighs, the pressure making the fabric of your panties rub against your slit. Wash watches your mouth open in a soft gasp. He stills and allows you to collect yourself, watching your face intently with a lustful look in his eyes. Bruised knuckles brush against your cheek as he closes the gap between your lips ever so slightly.

"Simmons has my rifle you know..."

"Then let him watch."

Your brain barely has enough time to process his words before his lips come crashing against your own. It isn't gentle, it's all teeth and tongue; like he can't hold back the desperation of having you come undone by his hands. You can feel his stubble against your skin, eliciting a soft moan into his mouth. You reach for his belt, unbuckling it in record time - even when he rolls his hips forward into your own...

The taste of cigarette ash lingers in your mouth when he pulls away, but he remains close enough that you share every breath in the small gap he allows. You feel the heat radiating off of his body and the thought of feeling his skin against yours is tantalising. Wash let's out a groan when you reach into his underwear to wrap your fingers around his dick. It's so thick compared to your hand and you feel it pulse against your fingers when you give him an experimental stroke. He reaches a hand up to cup your breast through your shirt, using his thumb to massage slow circles into you. You give him your best doe eyes, begging him for more.

"Fuck _Wash_..."

He rolls his cigerrate between his fingers and flicks it into the dirt, trailing his palm down the front of your body. Your breath hitches when he pulls your belt from its loop and then he's pushing your trousers off of your hips. You lose your boots somewhere in the process, unable to focus on anything other than the way he moves against you. Strong hands reach around your hips, grabbing your ass roughly to lift you into the air.

Your hands grip at the base wall in surprise for purchase with the sudden change in height, finding balance when he anchors his hips into yours. A moan leaves you when you feel the outline of his hard cock against his fatigues pressing against your covered clit.

His hands reach under your shirt to run slowly up your stomach, rough fingers skimming along your ribs making you shiver under his touch. He pulls the shirt up over your breasts, your sports bra soon following. The pit of your stomach burned with lust when you feel his skin against your bare chest, groping and massaging trying to draw out more of your pleasurable sighes.

You feel his breath trail across your skin as his face draws close to your chest. You keen as Wash licks a broad line across your nipple, his tongue so _hot_ you can feel your nipples pebbling at the rush of cool air that follows. You grab at his shirt and pull it over his head, a low chuckle rumbling through his chest. The sight of hard muscle underneath soft skin was too much to resist... You press your hand flat against his chest, the heat from his skin feeling like a burn against your fingers. Wash inhales at the touch as you explore further down.

You feel his muscles flex when you reach his abs, the signs of a bruise beginning to form from your spar. Your hand continues its journey down, lingering at the trail of hair just below his navel before you let your fingers curl provocatively in his waistband. He holds his breath when you graze his shaft, hips instinctively thrusting to meet your palm. You reward him with a long firm stroke, drawing out a moan from him that sounded desperate - _primal_.

"Wash please..."

How could he deny you any longer when you asked so nicely? He slides your panties off of your leg, letting them hang improper and forgotten off of your ankle. There is a rustle of fabric as he pulls down the front of his fatigues allowing his dick to bounce free; the sight of your arousal making him throb with need.

"Look at you, soaked for me already..."

The length of his cock slides against your entrance, his head bumping into your clit sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You squirm against him as he teases you with a few more slow thrusts before pressing the swollen tip against your entrance. He presses his hips forward slow at first, sliding in easily from your wetness. Your walls burn nicely around his thick shaft, he groans at the way your pussy grips tightly around his fat cock.

"Oh fuck..."

Your head is in the clouds. You couldn't tell who was having a harder time keeping it together as his hips press flush against your own. The way his hip bone grinds against your clit had your toes curling and your fingers clawing into his shoulders. If he knew you wanted him to take you like this, he would have fucked you when you first walked into the canyon. Your laugh, your smile, your shitty sense of humour fuck he _wanted_ you bad and now that he finally has you wrapped around him like this begging for him - it was like a dream come true.

He looks down at your bodies joined together, watching his cock disappear into your pussy. You hear him curse under his breath, your walls fluttering when his hips rocked into you. Rough hands ran up the expanse of your body kneading your soft skin between his fingers. Your head falls back to rest against the wall, your thoughts were fuzzy from the way the head of his cock pounded into your cervix, Wash putting his full weight into each stroke of his hips. Your nails leave red moon shapes in his shoulders making him groan in delight.

You feel his fingers coil around your throat, careful not to crush your windpipe against his palm. When he squeezes firmly he's awarded with a soft gasp from your lips and your pussy clenching around his cock. You looked like an _angel_ under him, how many times had he laid awake at night thinking about you like this? Taking his cock and moaning for him so sweetly?

"Shit... you like that?"

His voice is dripping with lust, his usual composure far from gone with you wrapped around him like this; he sounded like a feral animal. You thrust your hips to meet his own, the sound of your arousal impossible to miss. His fingers around your hip tighten to a bruising grip, angling your body to hit a spot deeper inside you. The cry that escapes your throat is pornographic, you can feel the knot in your stomach on the edge of coming undone. The new hold on your throat makes everything feel more _intense_ , you savour the way his silkin cock feels when we drags across your quivering walls.

The sound of his skin against yours was loud and obscene, he only fucks into you harder as if you were the only thing he could focus on. He presses you into the wall harder barely leaving any space between your bodies, his hips restless. You feel liquid heat coil in your stomach faster than you can process with the restricted blood flowing to your head, your vision blurred around the edges. He hits the spot again and again, the pressure your head spin.

The knot gives out faster than you can warn him, overcoming you like a damn finally giving way. The intense pleasure of your orgasm set every nerve in your body alight with sensitivity and molton heat, every thrust of his aching member was _electrifying_. He can feel every pulse of your orgasm and releases his grip on your throat to hold your body tighter to his, loving the way you feel squeezing around his length. Your tits bounce with each push of his powerful hips and you can't hold on to the moans and pleasured gasps that slip out of your throat.

His pace started to grow sloppy and desperate as he fucked you through your orgasm, rushing behind you to find his own release. When he slides out of your slick pussy, you moan at the sudden loss against your sensitive walls. You open your eyes and the sight before you makes a new wave of arousal pump through your veins. Wash is holding your hips tight, his hand leaving your throat to fist his red, weeping cock. You watch him fuck his hand and whisper soft pleas into his ear.

The way he moans your name as he cums on your stomach made you _burn_ with desire, his dick twitching in his palm. It was hot and thick against your skin; conjuring up filthy thoughts of him filling you again and again...  
He leans his forehead down against your own, panting quietly as takes a moment to come down from his euphoria. It made heat spread throughout your stomach at seeing him so vulnerable in front of you. His movements still against you, allowing you to soak up his relieved expression. Once he's recovered enough to think clearly he straightens up a bit and tries to avoid staring down at his spent dick resting against your mound.

"Sorry I didn't... didn't know if you wanted me to...?"

Wash can already feel the blush creeping into his cheeks as he locks eyes with you intimately. He must look really unattractive right now apologising to you, 'Really romantic Wash' he thinks... You hum in your post-orgasmic haze, giving him a reassuring smile. Your eyes wander down to your exposed stomach, his cum still hot against your skin.

"I thought it was really hot..."

You ponder on your next words, flashing him a seductive but sly smile.

"But if you want to cum in me next time, make sure you fill me up."

 _Shit_ , next time? He bits his lip, already feeling the tell tale sign of arousal starting to spread in his belly again at your words. He leans down and kisses your neck softly, as if trying to ease the growing hand print across your throat. He slowly lets your feet back down to the ground making sure you're steady before he lets go, tucking himself away into his trousers.

Wash kneels down and helps you step into your discarded trousers, the way he slides on your boots and laces them for you makes your heart flutter. A chaste kiss to your thigh makes butterflies spread through your stomach. He looked good on his knees like this... you would have to ask him about it next time.  
Once your belt is secured around your waist he draws you close to him for another kiss with a hand firm against your lower back. He's slow and careful this time, taking as long as he needs to trace every inch of your mouth with his own savouring the memory until he can have you again. You moan softly when his lips leave yours.

"So... want to spar again tomorrow?"

He lets out a warm laugh at your hazy voice and brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. The look in his eyes was adoring, you could almost melt under his gaze.

"Any time you like, beautiful."

You place a peck on his cheek, your hand caressing under his jaw with a feather-light touch. _Tease_...

"I'm holding you to that promise..."

You start to leave and throw him a wave before making your way back to base, a revived spring in your step. Paying him a visit tomorrow seemed like a good idea...

\- - -

You climb the slope to the top of Red base, surprised to see Simmons sitting waiting for you expectantly. It was past your guard duty surely he should be doing something like inventory at this time... He sits a little too straight for your liking, like a deer startled by the snap of a twig nearby. You don't have to read his face to know he's taking in the aight of the hand-shaped bruise curled around your neck.

"Are you doing alrigh-"

"FINE."

He flinches at his own voice, not meaning for it to project so loud. He clears his throat and tries again, voice noticeably uneven.

"F-fine, everything is great..."

A little smirk spreads across your face.

"Keep the rifle, I'm heading to the showers."

He nods his head and when you turn to leave, he shifts uncomfortably. Come to think of it his cod piece looked tighter than usual.

"You know Simmons.."

You flash him a knowing smile as you disappear down the slope, waving your hand dismissively.

"If you want to watch next time, I can get you a front row seat."

"I _wasn't_ watching!"

He practically yells out loud and you have to hide the unattractive snort that leaves your throat, slipping from his view. You were going to give that man a heart attack one of these days...


End file.
